Project Empire (ABANDONNED)
by Witty Lady
Summary: AU: "I believe you're the only one who knows, Kirkland. You, Ivan, Amelia, everyone is a nation. Do you realise that you did not only kidnap my 'son', but you kidnapped the entire nation itself?" None of the nations except a select few recall that they are nations. When the secrets are revealed, they must work against an unknown enemy who threatens to wreak havoc on the world.


**_A/N: Alright to clear some things up! General Winter is Russia's supposed father, like Peter Braginski is just his human name. Also, I wrote Nyo America to have a more serious side at times because I'm so tired to seeing of, "what's up, dude?" or "I'M THE HEROINE!" "BURGERS AND SHIT!" The agency that Amelia, Marianne, and Alice work for is called Codreth, and Project Empire is more than just taking down General Winter, (who is not even the main villain.) So enjoy!_**

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With a gentle _thud_ , Amelia landed on the hardwood floor. She looked both ways and then proceeded to shut the window as quietly as she could. Her mission was a simple one, to kill he target and to get out as fast as possible. She wanted to avoid detection, otherwise it would a terrible mess to clean up; and Amelia had never been fond of messes.

" _His room should be somewhere up on the third floor."_ That single direction kept repeating in her head until it drove her mad. She had one chance to do this, otherwise everything else was forfeit, her target would only grow stronger if she allowed him to live any longer.

She forced herself to take a quivering breath, "Get it together, Jones." She inhaled, held her breath for a moment, and then exhaled. She repeated the ritual four more times, before she started to move along the empty corridor; every creak in the floorboards sounded like a bomb going off.

Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating a million beats per second, (it was much more dramatic than just a minute). Her cropped, auburn hair stuck to the nape of her neck with sweat and she shivered once in a while. _Why did they send me to do this? I don't have a team or back up, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them._

Amelia turned the door knob slowly, and felt it turn; it was unlocked. She opened the door, and looked down the corridor, holding her breath. She heard no footfalls near her nor voices. She closed the door gently and waited a couple of seconds.

The figure in the bed stirred, and mewled. Amelia jumped out of her skin and pressed her back against the door, holding the gun out in front of her, ready to cock it if needed. The figure in the bed was sprawled out, but seemingly fast asleep. _How odd for a crime lord._ Amelia had expected her target to be alert, ready to jump and kill at any given moment.

She approached the bedside, and stared down at the figure, covered mostly by the comforter. The figure stirred once again, moaning out something incoherent to her and possibly in another language. Her palms were sweating; it was now or never. "Папа, это вы?"

What? She forced herself to think back to her Russian language lessons. Shit. The young man pushed himself up onto his elbows and ran a hand through his silvery hair, his eyes barely open. He looked dazed, not truly awake. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, still glazy with sleep. "Papa's not here now." She whispered lowly, the boy probably didn't even hear her.

Amelia pressed the barrel of the gun harshly to his forehead, finger already on the trigger. She cocked her gun, which startled the boy. His eyes opened wide and he nearly flew out of bed. He scrambled backwards, his bright, violet eyes filled with terror. His pupils were dilated and his lips were quivering. This wasn't her target, but he had now become one.

She recalled his face from the files, the poor guy didn't look as terrified then. Amelia almost laughed at her thoughts. _Ivan Braginski, son of Peter Braginski, A.K.A. General Winter._

Ivan looked as if he wanted to scream, but he could barely catch his breath. He got up slowly, eyeing the door, but Amelia knew what he intended. The minute he charged, Amelia grabbed his torso and slammed him to the ground, which proved a lot harder than she would have thought. He pushed on her face, and tried to haul her off of his body, but she straddled his waist. Ivan turned his head sideways and tried to move his hand towards the gun, but she grabbed his wrist and twisted it. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, tears already spilling down his cheeks. _Had this kid never done a day of fighting in his life?_ Amelia placed her elbow on his throat and applied pressure. His scream was choked and come out more as a gasp. Amelia, stretching her arm to grab the gun, hastily grabbed it and pressed the gun against his temple.

She leaned down and whispered into his ear, "I'm going to let go of you, but if you attempt to scream, you'll have a bullet in your head before you could even open your mouth. Blink twice if you understand." Ivan did as he was told, still trying to pry Amelia's arm away from his throat.

She let him go, but remained on straddled on his waist, keeping the gun pointed at his head. He looked terrified, but he tried not to show it. Amelia noticed the bruises already forming around his neck. Her mission had been fucking compromised. Hell, it had been the moment he woke up.

"W-why?" Ivan couldn't even manage coherent words. Amelia would have to make do with whatever half-assed plan she had in mind. He had stopped struggling against her, but she could feel his body tremble under her. God, she hated this.

"I apologize for this in advance, Mr. Braginski," but before Ivan could even protest, she smacked the barrel of the gun against his temple, instantly knocking him out. That should buy her time, hopefully. She got off of him, and looked around the room. She pinched the bridge of her nose and started pacing the elegant room.

She pulled out her phone and called Alice, one of her many trust partners. "Amelia? God, where are you? You should have been out by now!"

"Alice, we may have a teensy problem." Amelia whispered as lowly as possible. Surely Ivan's father would have had checked up on him by now? Or maybe come home? Was Ivan left alone? Then again, the mansion's isolated, but Braginski wouldn't be that stupid.

"Amelia? What the hell is the problem?" Alice shouted. She could imagine the British girl with a red face and steam coming out of her ears. Normally that would make Amelia feel better, but now, it merely caused her more stress.

"Braginski wasn't fucking home, Kirkland." Amelia snapped, she had a terrible tendency to do so when angered. "His son, Ivan was, and I woke him up instead. Had to knock him, poor kid. What should I do with him?"

"The proper thing would be to kill him." Alice continued, without any remorse. She was more experienced with this. Amelia dared a glance at Ivan, who was slumped over. She saw the nasty bruises around his neck and temple. Amelia shook her head, bile threatening to rise in her throat.

"No way, Kirkland. I-I can't," Amelia stopped herself and then continued, "I can't kill an innocent guy. I-it's not right." She could Alice grumbling on the other line. "Look, Alice, he's innocent. My mission was to kill his father, not him."

"Fine, we'll gather a team to come pick you up. Bloody hell, Amelia."

"Love you too, Alice," Amelia quipped, but the call was already ended before Amelia even said goodbye. Amelia growled and rolled her eyes. _Alice can be a proper bitch at times, can't she?_

Amelia crawled over to Ivan and examined his wounds. At least the bleeding had stopped and there seemed to be no internal bleeding. She felt a pang in her heart; she had never meant to hurt an innocent. This boy probably didn't even know his daddy was the notorious General Winter, he probably assumed his father was a business man. _It's part fo the job._ Amelia reasoned with herself, but she shook her head. A couple of tears fell, and she wiped them.

 _That never justifies this._

XXX

"How are you feeling, Mr. Braginski?" Alice sat across from Ivan, who looked utterly petrified. He was shaking slightly, he tugged his wrist, only to find it handcuffed to the table. He took a quivering breath and ran his free hand through his platinum blond hair. He chewed on his lip. "Ivan?" Alice questioned again.

"I-I-I didn't do nothing." Amelia felt terrible as she stared through the glass, watching the interrogation take place. His accent grew even heavier than usual, (from what she noticed), and apparently his ability to speak proper English. Had this kid even been outside?

"We're not accusing you-"

"Then why was I kidnapped from my home?" He shouted, pushing the chair out and leaning over the table. Ivan's skin had a sheen of sweat on it, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were widened, crazed one might say. "W-why did I get attacked? I didn't do- I didn't do-" He was breathing heavily, clutching his chest. Fat tears slid down his cheeks and his lips were trembling.

"Mr. Braginski, please take a deep breath." Amelia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at Alice. The British woman merely pushed the glasses up the bridge of her nose and sniffed, refolding her hands and placing them on the table in front of her. Her pigtails were in a slight disarray.

"I'm going to go in." Amelia was about to go, before she felt someone grab her wrist. She stared up at one of her other partners, Marianne Bonnefoy. Her eyes were sympathetic, but her grip was tight. Amelia pulled her wrist out and glared at the French self-proclaimed lady. Her brushed a strand of her silky brown tresses behind her ear.

"Amelia, cher, I know it's hard to see the fact that this boy knows nothing about what's going on, but we have to wait for now. What if he sees you and starts to panic even more?" Marianne tried to reason, her accent making her seem soft-spoken. However, from the way Marianne was holding herself, chin high and eyebrows furrowed, it was more of a threatening warning.

"Look, Alice is clearly getting nowhere with Ivan, might as well just end it already. Let me go in there, and then-"

"Amelia, no. I will go in first and try to calm him down. I'm good at that." Amelia couldn't argue with Bonnefoy there; she was exceptional at calming people down. She would speak to them in a low voice; her voice would become silky and soft, like a mother cooing to her child; but Marianne never treated them like a child. She spoke to them as if it was a longtime friend comforting another. "No offense, darling, but you're rather brash."

"None taken, Bonnefoy." Amelia remarked, and then nodded her head towards the door, turning towards the window again. She noticed how Ivan was now whimpering softly, not daring to look at Alice, who glanced from the corner of her eye towards to where the agents were standing.

Amelia felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. She groaned and answered the call, not even bothering to look at the caller ID, but she knew better than to be the first to respond. Heavy breathing accompanied with a raspy voice was heard on the other line. "Send one your best agents over, I'd like to make a compromise." Chills rand down her spine, how the hell did Braginski get her personal number? But then again, it was to be expected, that man was practically everywhere.

Amelia responded with a cool voice, no tremors whatsoever. "Where?"

"Where do you think, Miss Jones?" He asked which made another jolt run down Amelia's spine. She ignored her pounding heart and rising fear, and gulped, not audible, thank God.

"Will do, sir." She hung up the phone before Braginski could say even more. She knew he would find out that his son had been kidnapped, but the negotiations is what terrified Amelia. She would send Alice; the British girl would keep a cool head. She's dealt with Braginski head on before, she could do it again.

She heard the door creak open and slam shut; Amelia didn't have to turn to know that it was Alice, as adamant as ever. Amelia chuckled under her breath. "It's not funny, Amelia. The bloody mission has been compromised, now we have to deal with General fucking Winter."

"My condolences for your anger, Alice." Amelia remarked dryly, turning away from Ivan's shaking form to her. Kirkland gave her the harshest glare she could muster, but Amelia had grown accustomed to it. Amelia snapped her finger's in her partner's face. "I'm your partner, not your wife. If you want to glare like an angry wife, do so with Marianne. She told me sex is a lot more fun when you're angry." This made Alice go beat red, her face was flushed and she looked as if she wanted to strangle the American in front of her.

"Can you b-be anymore c-childish?" Alice stuttered. She poked Amelia while she continued her rant. "My sex life or relationship with Mademoiselle Frog," Alice mocked a French accent as she used Marianne's nickname, "has nothing to do with you or this case!"

"Calm down, Alice, I have some news. Guess who called my cell?" Alice's face went from beet red to milk white. She chewed on her lower lip and groaned. "Yeah, he told me to send one of my best agents to his house for negotiation." Alice raised her eyebrow, jutting her hip out on one side and crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't look at me like that, Alice. I want you to go, find out what he wants."

"That man can talk anyone in circles, Amelia."

"I know, but you're cleverer than anyone here put together. I want to send you." Before Alice could retort, Amelia interrupted her, "I know I'm not your superior, but I trust you Alice. Please, consider this. I want to get this done as soon as possible."

"Alright, but I'm not going to kill him, not yet at least. After this debacle with his son, Braginski is probably is expecting it." Alice trailed off and looked at the window, to find Marianne placing a comforting hand on Ivan's shoulder. He tried to shake her off. "I'll be heading out now."

"Be careful."

"You know me, Amelia," Alice smirked. "I'm careful with a flair of dramatic."

"So I've been told…by Marianne."

Alice stuck her tongue out at Amelia and slammed the door shut.

XXX

Ivan tried to shy away from the lady who had just entered the room. He didn't deserve any of this, why was he taken? What did they want? So many questions ran through Ivan's mind that it hurt. He could feel exhaustion trying to overtake him, but his current situation wouldn't allow him to sleep.

He could still feel the barrel of the gun harshly pressed his forehead; he remembered how the woman's trigger finger practically twitched, waiting to shoot him, the feel of her elbow against his throat, pressing on his windpipe. He remembered how he couldn't breathe, how he had struggled to push her off of him.

"Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Braginski?" The woman asked. Her speech as tinted with a noticeable accent, but not too heavy. _French._ He recalled what his father had told him. _Memorize every detail when you are in an unpredictable situation. Often times, a little detail like someone's eye color or the marks on their skin can save your life._

He looked up at the woman and noticed her warm smile. Her bright blue eyes looked sympathetic, but it was obviously she felt nothing, but pity for him. Her silky, brown tresses had been tied back in a French twist, and her suit was crumpled slightly. Her skin was a pale, milky color, but her cheeks were rose tinted and her lips were a bright shade of red.

"Don't call me 'Mr. Braginski", that's father name." Ivan forced himself to take a deep breath, but only a shallow gasp came out. Whenever he was stressed, it was harder to remember English. He stared down at himself, trying to analyze his nightclothes, but the French woman merely hovered a hand over his form.

Ivan started and landed out of the chair, feeling a yank from the handcuff attached to the metal table. He moaned in pain and got up again. He chewed on his lip for the umpteenth time that night and felt the familiar taste of blood in his mouth. He took a deep breath and looked up at the French woman. "What did you say your name was, miss?" He asked.

"Marianne Bonnefoy." She smiled at him and then moved to take her seat from across the table. "We know you didn't do anything, Ivan. However, you were not our original target, your father was. Do you know what he does?" Marianne questioned. Ivan's jaw dropped. This is preposterous, he couldn't even begin to comprehend what Marianne was asking. "Ivan?"

He practically lurched across the table, but the handcuff stopped him from grabbing the woman, which was unlike his gentle nature. "How dare you? My father is businessman, he's wealthy! He would never ever hurt anyone!" He was panting heavily, but he couldn't stop. "AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN I WAS NOT THE ORIGINAL TARGET? MY FATHER WAS? I DEMAND-"

"Mr. Braginski, please calm down." Marianne's voice had changed from gentle to cool, as if she was ready to call any security to calm him down. Ivan would have paced but he was held in place by that damn handcuff. "Please, let's try-"

"No! Don't fucking tell me-" Ivan didn't even know what he wanted to say. There was too much, everything was flying out of his mouth faster than he could even comprehend it. He couldn't even order his thoughts, but he was too furious to do so. He wanted to scream and to rage, but he also wanted to curl up and wake up from this nightmare.

Marianne had not approached him, she stayed glued to her seat, her spine grew straighter. He could see perspiration on her forehead; she was afraid, afraid of what he would do, afraid of his reactions. He was panting and running his hand constantly through his disheveled hair.

Ivan sat down once again and laid his head down on the table, wanting the room to disappear around him, along with Marianne, who was charged with babysitting. Home. That's all he wanted.

When he raised his head once again, he remained handcuffed to the table, but Marianne was gone.


End file.
